


Lonely Too Long

by ren_ascent



Series: Lonely Too Long [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Top!Benny, bottom!Dean, cavity inducing sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ren_ascent/pseuds/ren_ascent
Summary: Dean and Benny run away on Benny's boat and are generally adorable together.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Series: Lonely Too Long [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545277
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a new work. This was originally posted in 2013 under my old pseud rippedoutgrace. I've moderately edited this chapter, mostly to change the verb tense with some minor clean up. I've fixed it so they're all present tense now and hopefully it makes for a better read. 
> 
> Title from The Civil Wars' song, Dust to Dust, which is the most Dean/Benny song ever written. 
> 
> I'll upload the other old chapters/timestamps as I edit them so stay tuned...

Benny can’t say he’s particularly surprised to find Dean knocking on his door one night, even though he is confused as to how exactly Dean found him. There must have been two dozen equally nondescript boats gently bobbing in the marina, not to mention he hadn’t even told Dean what town he’d been in last. He opens the door to find Dean leaning against the doorframe, overly casual and trying hard to hide the exhaustion in his body though the tension around his eyes and mouth give him away.

Benny wipes his hands on the dishtowel he’s holding before lightly grasping Dean’s wrist and tugging him inside. “Been a while, brother,” he murmurs, hauling Dean close for a hug. He isn’t expecting Dean to return it so forcefully or hold on for so long.

He soothes his hands up and down Dean’s back, the friction from the rough canvas of his jacket causing his hands to itch. Dean lets out a shuddering breath and pulls back, scratching at the corner of his eye with a finger. He smirks a little but is evidently too tired to make it convincing.

“Yeah, I was just in the area, you know. Wanted to see how you were doing.” Dean moves stiffly and slowly through the cabin, reaching out to touch things – a mug, a pair of suspenders slung over a chair back—but pulls his fingers away before letting himself make contact. Benny just stands quietly, letting Dean settle himself down.

“Mmhmm, yeah. Me and Sam, uh, we just finished a case and I thought I’d come see you. Phone calls are so impersonal and it’s been a while, you’re right...” Dean continues talking a mile a minute about inane bullshit that Benny doesn’t buy for a second. He is starting to see something else though. Desperation in those green eyes.

Dean came to him because he had nowhere else to go. Benny isn’t even sure which disaster in Dean’s life prompted this visit but he isn’t going to complain.

“Well, you must be hungry. Come on and sit. Caught some catfish earlier that I was gonna cook up just now. You like it fried?”

In truth, Benny had been planning on selling the fish he caught and had been cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, but if Dean senses Benny going out of his way for Dean, he’s pretty sure Dean would protest and put up a fuss. He could fry up a catfish in his just cleaned pan, no problem.

***

It takes two days for Dean to finally confess that he and Sam had been fighting for a good long while. It takes two more days after that for Dean to actually agree to stay with Benny for a bit.

“Until things cool off, Dean,” he’d said, but already hoping it’d be a longer stay than that. Benny doesn’t dare let himself hope for something permanent. But it’s there in the back of his mind anyway.

***

Dean at first insists on sleeping on the floor, claiming he wouldn’t force Benny to give up his narrow bed and rolls his eyes amusedly when Benny suggests they share it.

A week on the floor and Dean is crawling into bed with Benny fully clothed, apologies on his lips and rigid lines of tension keeping him still on the very edge of the mattress.

As the nights go by, Dean gets closer and closer to Benny, shifting his body and losing layers until Benny can see his breath disturbing the fine hairs at the back of Dean’s neck and the goosebumps erupt on his arms. Frankly, it was ridiculous to wear so many layers this far south on the Mississippi. The heat is oppressive, to say the least. Mosquitoes swarm the deck after dusk and despite Dean getting bit twice on the soft inside of his upper arm, he continues to shed layers every night.

Benny takes it as the sign of comfort it’s meant to be.

***

Dean leaves early one morning and Benny half fears he wouldn’t return until Dean’s shadow darkens the cabin doorway, grinning like a little boy as he holds a cooler of AB negative aloft like a victory prize.

“What’s all this then?”

“I think we should head upriver or something. We’re on a boat after all and we’re just sitting in the marina for weeks now.”

Benny speaks slowly, “Yeah, we could now. What about...”

“I just put the Impala in storage this morning so we’re good to go,” Dean interrupts, still grinning hugely.

Benny had actually been about to ask after Sam but if Dean doesn’t want to talk about it, he isn’t going to force him. If the brothers were on the outs, well, Benny couldn’t do much to help. Sam was still uneasy (_hostile_, his mind corrected) around Benny and Dean is about as open to the subject as he was about Castiel, which is to say not at all.

***

They make their way slowly up the river, stopping occasionally in small towns along the riverbank but never staying for long. Benny would make a discreet run to a blood bank when he could find one and Dean would pick up a few things. Odds and ends mostly that started taking up space in the little cabin, not that Benny complains. He likes that Dean is adding to his (_their_) home. He likes the new ruffled apron, bought as a joke and tossed at him with a laugh, and he wears it every time he cooked now, not missing the pleased flush on Dean’s cheeks.

He likes the cartoonish alligator salt and pepper shakers that never did get filled up, and the afghan that is nearly unbearable to lay beneath during the warm nights, and even the welcome mat laying outside the cabin door that inexplicably reads “Beat It!”. Benny scratched his head at the appearance of that one considering he and Dean were the only ones on the boat and he assumes it’s a joke of some kind but doesn’t want to ask and draw attention to the knick knacks taking over the boat.

They crawl up towards Memphis, passing the edge of the city at dusk. It had taken nearly a week at the snail’s pace they were going and Dean seems to have no interest in stopping in the city, getting antsy and agitated the longer the bright lights illuminating the deck of the boat.

Benny wraps his hand around Dean’s shoulder as they watch the city disappear behind them, feeling the tension leave Dean the further away they get. “Everything okay?”

Dean shrugs but not hard enough to dislodge Benny’s hand. He even leans into it a little before answering. “Guess I never was an Elvis fan,” he jokes weakly.

Benny can’t quite read between the lines on that one but he keeps his hand where it is until it’s too dark to see much of anything anymore.

When they pass St. Louis a day later, Benny watches Dean for signs of discomfort and sure enough, Dean starts drumming his fingers along the edge of the railing and walking the length of the tiny deck in circles, humming something Benny doesn’t recognize. Not that he recognizes any of Dean’s musical tastes.

He asks Dean later that night as they lay in bed, both stripped down to an undershirt and boxers but still preserving precious few inches of mattress between them. Maybe it’s the safety of the cover of darkness or Dean’s tired enough to be honest, but Benny isn’t expecting the answer.

“I like forgetting the world still exists sometimes,” Dean murmurs sleepily. “Small towns are okay because they’re easy to forget after you leave ‘em. Big cities...” he trails off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Make it real again,” Benny supplies. He could understand that. If anyone is entitled to a break from the world it’s Dean Winchester.

“Mmhmm. Like this. Like you,” Dean stretches his fingertips out to touch Benny, catching the fabric of his undershirt just above his heart. Benny’s breath stutters out, not prepared for contact after Dean had so studiously avoided it. He keeps still though, not daring to startle Dean awake and into awareness.

Dean clutches at Benny’s shirt, fingers plucking at it restlessly and once catching a couple of chest hairs that makes Benny hiss in a breath in shock. Dean keeps at it unconsciously until he stretches his hand wide, spreading his fingers across Benny’s chest and lets them drift down to the arm he’s laying on. He curls his fingers around it and his breaths even out deep and slow.

Benny doesn’t sleep at all that night.

***

Neither of them mention it the next morning, Benny unwilling to push Dean into any more confessions he might not want to make and Dean avoiding emotions like the pro he so obviously is. It doesn’t stop Benny from feeling the ghost of Dean’s warmth on his cool skin or hearing echoes of “_like you_” in his mind.

***

They keep traveling north up the river until they reach the end of Illinois. A few hours into Wisconsin, when Dean abruptly announces they should head back south. Benny feels his heart clench, feels his already cool skin go cold. He nods mutely, fearing the worst. This was it. Dean would leave him when they got back downriver. He’d hug Benny with a slap on the back, get into that gleaming black car, and drive away for months, years, who knew how long until Benny would see him again, taking a piece of Benny’s heart with him.

Benny can see the entire scene unfolding before him, trudging back to the boat alone, seeing traces of Dean everywhere in the cabin, hearing him laugh when he was awake and sigh softly in his sleep, feeling his warm breath puff across Benny’s cheek every night.

No. He couldn’t lose that.

“Dean.”

Dean turns around with a raised brow. Benny hadn’t even realized he’d spoken out loud. When he pauses for too long, Dean frowns and moves closer on the tiny deck. “You okay, man?”

Benny clears his throat, looking down for a moment before meeting Dean’s eyes. “You don’t have to go yet.”

Dean looks even more perplexed. “Go? Go where?”

“When we get back south. You don’t have to...” Benny takes his cap off and rubs a hand over his head, trying to get himself together. He keeps it clutched in his hand, feeling exposed, as he tries again. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay here.” _With me. Stay with me. _

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Dean still sounds confused, brows scrunched and one eye squinting at Benny as if trying to make him out.

Benny isn’t aware of moving towards Dean until he’s so close he can count the freckles dotting Dean’s nose, more numerous after the weeks in the sun, and see the single gray hair at Dean’s temple. Dean’s eyes are wider now but he stays still. Benny hears himself say, “Good, ‘cause I don’t want you goin’ anywhere.” His accent gets thicker and slower, and Dean shivers under the words spoken right against his lips.

When Benny leans across the last inch to kiss Dean, he doesn’t expect to open to him so willingly or so quickly. He can feel Dean’s tongue teasing the line of lips and _whoa_.

He breaks the kiss but brings his hands to clasp around Dean’s arms so he doesn’t think he’s rejecting him, pushing him away. “We can take it easy, brother. No rush here.”

Dean growls out in that rough voice of his, “Goddamn it, Benny. We’ve been taking it slow for _weeks_ now.”

And... oh. Yeah, he guesses they have been. He holds back Dean lunging at him again, this time chuckling lightly and rubbing his hands up and down Dean’s arms.

“Stay still already,” he laughs. He laughs harder when Dean completely stops fighting him and stood stock still, mouth parted in anticipation and eyes bright on Benny’s face. “We’re gonna do this proper.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s get to it.”

Benny shoots Dean a warning glance before closing the distance between them again, pressing his lips against Dean’s, feeling the slightly chapped skin and the smell of something so especially _Dean _filling his senses and taking all his self control to keep the kiss light. He wants to delve into that plush mouth, taste and take and leave both of them breathless. But there will be plenty of time for that later.

He lets himself pull the soft bottom lip between his, giving it a swipe of his tongue before releasing it, feeling Dean’s exhale through his parted lips, sweet and dark at the same time. He steps back to find Dean’s eyes still closed and lips still separated. Smiling, he kisses both of Dean’s eyelids, loving the feel of his eyelashes fluttering against his chin.

Dean’s eyes open and Benny hoped he hadn’t gone too far for Dean. But all he can see was fond exasperation. “What?”

“So ‘proper’ means ‘slow’?” Dean huffs out a laugh.

Benny smiles, and catches the sight of his cap at his feet. He bends down and dusts it off, giving it a shake before sitting it atop his head. He tips the brim towards Dean and says, “You got it.”

***

Despite Dean’s enthusiasm to move things along, Benny is determined to keep things at a slow pace. Not that he wouldn’t mind tumbling into bed next Dean, worship that body with touches and kisses and feel the blood rushing beneath that thin exterior, but he’s a gentleman, damn it.

***

They turn back down river, heading south but Benny’s no longer worried about this (whatever it is) ending.

He watches Dean sun himself on the deck in the mornings, complaining about the sun by midday. He listens amusedly as Dean tells stories of mishaps and accidents while hunting, though he notices Dean never tells stories about hunting vampires. Stories about Sam were less frequent but all told with the same fond affection. Stories about Castiel were affectionate but always with a twinge of bitterness. He doesn’t ask for elaborations, just taking whatever Dean offers.

They stop for an afternoon somewhere in Missouri since Benny is running low on bags and Dean insists he could keep himself out of trouble for a while. When Benny makes it back to the boat Dean’s lazing on the deck in a chair he had dragged from the cabin. Benny notices a pile of books beside him.

“Good books?”

Dean grins sharply. “The best.”

And so it becomes a routine. Dean reads his favorite books aloud to Benny, first something by a Vonnegut that had Benny raising his eyebrows several times. When Dean pulls out a Mark Twain, Benny laughs and remarks how appropriate it was.

They drift south down the Mississippi with Dean’s voice bringing life to Huck Finn and Jim and their own travels down the very same river.

Every evening they cook together, friendly nudges and bumps as they work in the tiny space. Every evening they eat, Dean digging into the fish they’d caught and cooked, while Benny sips quietly on a blood bag.

Every night they strip down to their underwear and get in bed, facing each other and slowly falling asleep not touching, but waking up every morning wrapped in each other’s arms.

***

The night Dean produces a radio from somewhere is a good night. Reception is terrible and they sway close together to bits and snatches of Bobby Darin singing _Somewhere Beyond the Sea_ and the two of them filling in the gaps. Benny had a passable singing voice but he’s floored to hear Dean sing low and sweet and so damn good that he stops dancing altogether in shock.

“You never told me you sing!”

Dean shrugs, clearly uncomfortable and the tips of his ears burning red. “Well. You never asked.”

Benny shakes his head and grabs Dean closer again, pressed cheek to cheek as the song finished on the radio. But Dean keeps singing. “_Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waitin’ for me, my lover stands on golden sands...”_

Bobby Darin fades into a big band orchestra that neither of them recognize but it’s upbeat and they dance in tight circles, Benny’s whiskers rubbing Dean’s cheek red and Dean pressing fingers into Benny’s waist, even as the radio loses reception again.

They both jump slightly when the white noise of the radio turns into Etta James’ raspy voice singing, “_At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over..._”

Benny chuckles and drops his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. He feels Dean’s arms come around his back, and hears him singing softly into Benny’s ear as they slow-step together. “_I found a dream, that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known.._.”

In that moment, Benny feels it keenly enough for both of them. The loneliness of their lives, the constant fighting for survival, and how it all seems to vanish here when they’re wrapped up in each other. The outside world is less of a reality than what’s happening between them now.

Benny distantly remembers dinner cooking on the stove behind them and he sways them closer to reach behind him and turn it off without letting go of Dean.

Neither of them eat that night, but it doesn’t matter.

***

They spend a full week in Louisiana. Benny points out the Spanish moss drooping down to skim the water and once even an alligator sunning himself on the bank. Dean noses at his cheek every time Benny gets excited about something, his accent deepening here as if every part of him could sense the feeling of _home_.

Benny’s hometown is too far inland to be able to show Dean but they spend a dusky evening shooing mosquitoes away from Dean while Benny talks about his youth, the pranks he pulled and his mama. Her quiet, warm honey voice that countered his daddy’s disciplinarian ways and how much he misses her.

“I think our moms would have gotten along,” Dean says thoughtfully, thumb skimming Benny’s hipbone and eyelashes brushing against his ear. “Our dads too, now that I think about it.”

“Hmm, I bet you’re right,” Benny murmurs, turning to catch Dean’s mouth in a sweet, lazy kiss. They trade stories between more kisses until the stories run out but the kisses never do.

Dean ends up sitting in Benny’s lap, arms tight around his neck and lips eagerly searching out Benny’s. Benny doesn’t stop Dean when his hips roll down against his experimentally and his answering groan causes Dean to do it again and again until they’re both panting into open mouths and Benny can feel Dean’s hardened length against his own. The layers are thick between them, but it doesn’t stop Dean from going tense within minutes and shaking apart above him, coming with the sweetest sounds Benny ever did hear.

Dean collapses against him and Benny’s aching cock is pressed tightly between them with just enough room for Benny to unzip and slide a hand in. There isn’t enough space for him to get a grip around himself but he grinds against his hand and Dean’s thigh together until he spills with a groan. Dean presses clumsy open-mouthed kisses to Benny’s throat as he shakes with aftershocks. After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing returns to normal, though his limbs are still loose and lax. He shifts on Benny’s lap trying to straighten himself up, but Benny shushes him and strokes Dean’s back soothingly.

“It’s alright now, sugar. It’s alright.” He keeps up the long sweeping strokes until he’s pretty sure Dean had fallen asleep on him. They sit on the deck, Dean trying to curl his long body against Benny’s and Benny holding him firmly. He finally stands and hoists Dean into his arms when the mosquitoes become too vicious, Benny wincing in sympathy at the fresh bites that Dean would scratch relentlessly all day tomorrow, though hopefully stopping before breaking the skin. Dean bats at his arms sleepily.

“Not a baby. ‘M awake, can walk.”

“You bet, honey,” he replies, still holding Dean close as he brings him inside the cabin and lays him on the bed. The mattress isn’t springy enough to bounce Dean so he lands harder than Benny anticipated. They peel sticky clothes off, Dean getting in the way more than helping, and Benny winces at the pull of dried come on their bellies. He fetches a small wet towel and rubs them clean as best he can.

Dean is now fully naked and smiling sleep-sweet at Benny, trying to pull him down on the bed. Benny sighs and steps out of his own underwear, sliding cautiously on to the bed, leaving a couple of inches between them.

Dean huffs and pulls Benny’s arms around him until they’re spooned flush together and Benny jumps a little when his soft cock brushes Dean’s ass. “’S okay, man. Just sleep now.”

Benny listens to Dean’s breathing even out and go slow and deep, but he stays awake for hours after, marveling at Dean’s soft skin. The freckles are numerous across his shoulders and arms and Benny wants to tongue at each and every one. He slides a hand around Dean’s hip and up around his chest, holding against his ribs while his breath pushes them in and out.

Close to dawn, Dean shifts and Benny opens his eyes, wondering when he drifted off. Dean wriggles around until he’s facing Benny and Benny opens his arm out as he rolls onto his back, Dean immediately snuggling against his chest. Benny wraps his arm around Dean wishing he’d thought to grab the afghan when they’d gone to bed and regretting for the first time in a long time that he had no human warmth to give Dean.

“You cold?” he whispers.

“Mmph. I’m good,” Dean yawns into Benny’s chest, exhaled breath stirring the dark hair dusting the expanse. “You’re better than the cool side of the pillow.”

That startles Benny into a genuine smile. He sneaks a kiss down onto Dean’s forehead and lets them sink back into sleep until the sun is high and warm.

***

On a whim, they head for the mouth of the river and into the Gulf. The waters are rougher and it takes more concentration as Benny steers them around the coastline. Dean looks a little worse for wear by the time they reach Pensacola.

Benny is a little afraid Dean won’t agree to go ashore. Unexpectedly, Dean suggests it before Benny has a chance to broach the subject and they find a marina. Benny hops out first to tie the boat off and reaches a hand out to help Dean up to the dock, unable to keep his surprise off his face when Dean doesn’t let go.

They walk around for a bit, finding a fish market selling fresh caught fish and an older woman outside in a food truck making hot beignets. Dean drags them over and buys half a dozen from her, shooting her a wink and a smile that has her perking up. Benny just laughs and tells Dean as he was popping the puffed dough into his mouth, and getting powdered sugar all over both of them in the process, that he’ll make them for Dean sometime. Dean responds with an enthusiastic (and sugary) kiss.

After the beignets are long gone, they find themselves in what Benny assumes is the historic district of downtown. The Spanish architecture is beautiful and he keeps pointing out red tiled roofs to Dean. Dean really only looks interested when he hears a couple of girls passing by talking about taking a ghost tour.

He stops them with a grin and polite “Excuse me? Did you say ghosts?”

The girls giggle and smile at them and explaine that there were several tours available of local places rumored to be haunted.

It’s not until the taller of the two girls asks, “Did you and your boyfriend want to check it out?” that Benny realizes they’re still holding hands. He reluctantly starts to let go of Dean’s hand but stops when Dean glances over and meaningfully squeezes Benny’s fingers. Benny smiles softly and slips his fingers to rest between Dean’s and listens politely while Dean asks questions about the ghost that supposedly haunted the local lighthouse.

When the girls turn to leave, Benny can sense Dean’s excitement and sure enough, when they were out of earshot Dean whirls around and grips Benny’s hand tightly, “Did you hear that? A ghost, man! Haven’t hunted a ghost in a long time.”

Privately, Benny thinks that Dean has never looked more beautiful than he does with the obnoxiously hot Florida sun beating down on them and making Dean’s eyes glow brighter as he explains the ins and outs of hunting a ghost.

He can feel Dean nearly vibrating when he suggests they take the tour of the lighthouse just to check it out. After asking around, they’re directed to a low roofed building where they buy two tickets and meet their tour guide, a perky twenty-something named Steve, and gaggle of schoolchildren with their harried looking teacher trying to call roll with mixed success.

Benny watches the children for signs of disgust at his and Dean’s still clasped hands, but all he gets was mild curiosity. He smiles at them and the ones looking at him brightened considerably. A couple of them even say hello. Dean isn’t paying attention, listening to the guide attentively and asking questions. As they walk to the lighthouse, Dean keeps his fingers between Benny’s but clearly on the hunt now as he and the guide talk about possible sightings and the identity of the ghost. Benny shrugs good-naturedly at the teacher as they make polite small talk, smiling at Dean (_his boyfriend_) as they all troop along the much too warm sidewalks. The breeze from the ocean is the only saving grace of this particular outdoor excursion.

By the end of the tour, Benny hasn’t really paid attention to what all happened but he did enjoy talking with Mrs. Baker (“call me Libby”) and watching her boisterous class run around. He’s pretty sure Dean was really the only one on this tour. He lets Dean stand around talking to Steve for a bit afterward as he helps herd Libby’s class into a semi circle so she can give them instructions. He waves goodbye to her and the class as Dean walks back towards him, his shoulders drooping a little.

“What happened?”

“I don’t think there’s really a ghost here. Could just be a rumor. But, uh, I wouldn’t mind maybe still checking it out?” He looks at Benny hopefully.

Benny nods, “Sure, that sounds like a good idea. How about I find us a room for the night?” His chest feels light at the beaming smile Dean gives him and he thinks he might float away altogether when Dean leans over and smooches him right on the mouth in the middle of the street.

They part ways, Benny to find a room and Dean to keep investigating.

***

“I didn’t mean a _nice_ room!”

Benny figures Dean would get caught on that fact. Truthfully, the bed and breakfast really was the first place he walked past and it looked charming enough with its seaside views that he couldn’t resist. The bed alone looks wonderful enough for the cost of the room. A soft blue quilt covers the satiny cotton-white sheets on the iron frame bed and the entire room was decorated in similar calm, beach-y colors. There are also probably a thousand seashells, covering all the picture frames and the edges of the mirror in the bathroom and placed decoratively on most of the flat surfaces in the room.

While Dean looks torn between picking a fight and sinking into the bed, Benny kicks off his shoes and stretches out across the blue quilt. “The bathroom has a huge tub,” he comments lazily.

Dean doesn’t pick a fight.

***

By late afternoon, Dean is absolutely sure that the ghost is just a rumor and he looks a little disappointed. It doesn’t stop him from finding the poor bastard’s grave that night and taking Benny along for backup as they dig him up and salt and burn the bones. They’re filthy by the time they return and the dismayed glare the old man at the front desk gives them has Benny whispering to Dean, “Maybe we should have jumped in the ocean first. Soaking wet probably would have been less suspicious than covered in dirt.”

Dean shrugs him off and reminds him about the tub. They rinse off the worst of the dirt and sand before filling up the tub. The hour they spend soaking in the hot soapy water back to chest was worth it.

The bed is as soft as it looks and they both groan contentedly as they slip between the sheets, naked skin pruned and smelling of soap. Benny stretches out beneath the covers and closes his eyes, sighing deeply. It isn’t often he found himself in such a nice bed. His eyes pop open, however, when he feels Dean maneuvering himself over Benny to rest on his hips, knees on either side. Benny brings his hands to rest on Dean’s thighs as he blinked up at him. What he sees surprises him.

Dean seems unsure of himself. He looks down, avoiding Benny’s eyes as he sifts his fingers through the hair on his chest. “I know we’ve been taking this slow, Benny, but please? I want it. _You_.”

He looks like he thinks Benny would actually reject him. As if Benny could deny him anything.

Benny reaches up to pull Dean down to kiss him, rubbing his thumbs across Dean’s day old stubble. Dean rolls them over so that Benny blankets his body completely and Benny curls his hands protectively around Dean’s head as they kiss.

He’s so wonderfully responsive to everything Benny does. Every teasing nip is met with a shallow gasp. Every deep kiss that brings their tongues together, wet slide of muscle tasting each other, draws a moan from Dean.

Dean lets his legs fall open to bracket Benny’s hips as they start a slow grind against hardening, lengthening cocks. Benny is already getting close, feeling his hips stuttering erratically, when Dean tears his mouth away from Benny’s to gasp out, “Wait, not like this.”

Benny levers himself on one hand to get a look at Dean and hell, he was already flushed and panting, his lips swollen pink from the kisses and his cheeks and chin reddened by Benny’s beard. Those bottle green eyes are dark and getting darker as they watch Benny hungrily.

“What d’ya want, darlin’? Want my mouth on ya?” That elicits a bone deep shudder from both of them. Benny mouths kisses across Dean’s jaw until he reaches his ear and he murmurs, “Could suck you off, hmm?” A nip to the edge of his ear. “Make it so good for you.”

He gest distracted then by the flutter of Dean’s eyelashes against his cheek. Soft little whispery butterfly kisses trying to get his attention.

“You just tell me, sugar.”

“I want—_ fuck – _ I- I want you in me,” Dean huffs. “But I wouldn’t mind the other thing either.”

Benny chuckles and kisses that pert mouth, nodding and sliding his way down Dean’s body. He trails kisses and nips down his torso, stopping to bite a bruise into Dean’s hipbone. The blood comes rushing to the surface and Benny can smell it so sweet and perfect, he gets a little lightheaded for a moment. He feels the press of his fangs behind his gums and he firmly tells that part of his mind to shut up.

He isn’t as subtle as he thought. Dean catches his eye and smiles at him so trusting and says, “I don’t mind. It’s not like you haven’t before.”

True as that may be, this isn’t Purgatory. This isn’t desperation and unquenchable thirst. This isn’t Dean offering himself as a last resort.

This is special. This is trust and Benny tells Dean so just before he wraps his lips around the head of Dean’s flushed and weeping cock. Benny can hear the vibrations in Dean’s throat, trying to keep the groans and moans from surfacing, and he pulls off long enough to say, “Don’t hold back here. Want t’hear you.”

And Dean doesn’t hold back at all.

Benny’s just establishing a good rhythm, unable to get the entirety of his cock in his mouth but sucking hard on the head with a twist of his tongue to make up for it, when Dean starts to push against him with floppy, uncoordinated hands. He glances up to see Dean looking as delicious and decadent as he’d ever seen.

“Wanna swing around up here?” he asks, making a twirling motion with his fingers.

He doesn’t think twice before pulling himself up and over Dean’s body and settling over Dean’s face. Since he can’t see what Dean’s doing, he jumps a little when he feels the first swipe of Dean’s tongue but relaxes into a long, deep groan as he feels the warm, wet heat surrounding all of him. And damn if Dean didn’t actually get all of him down. He can feel the contracting press of Dean’s throat around the head of his cock and he can’t stop his moan.

Benny goes back to Dean, sucking and laving his tongue around the silky smooth head. He bends his arm to rest on his elbow as he sucks two of his fingers in his mouth and jacked Dean off with his other hand. Switching off, he brings his mouth back down and reached his now wet fingers behind Dean’s balls, searching for that little crinkled hole. He brushes against it and feels Dean’s answering moan reverberate through him.

He starts circling it, light pressure at first then growing steadily until the very tip of his index finger just breaches the outer ring of muscle. He loses his balance as Dean releases his cock to suckle on his balls and his finger slipped in to the first knuckle. Benny swears and tried to backtrack, but Dean pulled back to croak out, “No, more. More. I can take it, man.”

They need to do this right though. As much as Benny doesn’t want to lose that delightful mouth on him, he shifts away and back over, kneeling above a confused looking Dean. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ wrong, sugar. Just don’t wanna hurt ya, is all.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine. My bag.”

“Come again?”

“Was trying to,” Dean grumps. “I’ve got uh, some stuff in my bag.”

Oh. That stuff.

Benny slides off the bed and finds Dean’s bag lying near the foot. He pokes around in it as Dean starts shifting impatiently, legs restlessly scrunching up the sheets. Dean opens his mouth just as Benny feels his fingers brush against a plastic bottle. He pulls it out and throws it on the bed, bouncing off Dean’s knee and landing between the V of his legs.

He climbs back up and sits back on his heels between Dean’s legs. He starts rubbing the calves stretched out beside him, digging his thumbs into muscle and flesh as he bent one knee up and then the other, exposing Dean to him. He planted a kiss on each kneecap before opening the bottle and coating his fingers in the slick lube. He didn’t notice how quiet Dean had gone until he looked up.

Dean’s propped up on his elbows, chewing at his already plump lower lip and watching Benny with wide eyes.

He grasps Dean’s hip and rubbed circles under the winged bone as he makes soft, shushing noises. “What’s wrong, darlin’? What do you need? Hmm?”

Dean flops backwards and stares at the ceiling. Benny reaches up and smoothes circles over Dean’s belly, palm rubbing over the trail of hair there. “I just. I haven’t. I—“

Benny surges up and kisses Dean, suddenly understanding the hesitation. “You wanna stop, sugar?” God, it wouldn’t be easy, but he would do it for Dean. “Talk to me, honey. Don’t clam up on me. You never...?”

Dean huffs out a noisy sigh and clamps a hand over his eyes. “I’ve _done_ stuff. Just not, you know.” He pops his head forward abruptly, eyes wide. “But I want to with you! Don’t stop. I just. Haven’t...” he trails off and Benny curls a hand around his neck, cupping his head and stroking the short, bristly hairs there.

“You want me? You have me. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

Dean noses at Benny’s jaw before kissing him deeply. “Yeah, okay. I want you to fuck me.”

Benny frowns and replies, “This ain’t fuckin’. This is—“

“Do _not_ say ‘making love’. It’s so cheesy,” Dean interrupts quickly.

It was Benny’s turn to roll his eyes, but he nods anyway, silently finishing the sentence to himself.

Cheesy or not. It is what it is.

He shifts around until he’s laying between Dean’s thighs on his stomach, his legs getting trapped by the iron frame on the foot of the bed until he curls his knees under his body. If Dean had never done this before, he probably hadn’t ever had someone rim him either, and if there was one thing Benny can not wait to do to Dean...

The first yelp that comes out of Dean, high pitched and shocked, makes him smile and press his tongue even more firmly against Dean’s hole. He laves and licks and sucks on the skin until Dean’s writhing and clinging to the bars on the headboard. Dean tastes dark and addictive and Benny could have spent hours doing this. Hearing Dean make those lovely groans and breathy _ah-ah_s, well, that’s just the cherry on top.

He grabs Dean’s thighs and hoists him up until his upper back was the only part still in contact with the bed. Benny buries his face between those lightly dusted, freckled cheeks and gets Dean so open and loose and slick with spit that he can poke the tip of his tongue inside. Dean wails and bucks against him hard enough that he figures it was a good thing he’s not human or he wouldn’t be able to hold him steady.

By the time he pulls back, Dean’s hole is puffy and invitingly open, the skin around it blushing red from the scratch of Benny’s beard. Dean himself is panting and wriggling weakly with shining eyes. Benny lowers his legs back down to the bed, brushing a stray tear off Dean’s cheek. “You good, _mon cher_?”

Dean nods vigorously, pulling Benny into a wet kiss that surprises him. Considering where his tongue had just been. But if Dean doesn’t mind, neither does he. Dean won’t let go of Benny’s mouth, keeping his hands on either side of his jaw, so Benny has to blindly search for the lube again, lost between the sheets. When he feels it, he squirts some out into his hands and tosses it aside. He slicks himself up and uses the rest on Dean’s hole, not daring to make this any more painful for him than it had to be.

When Dean relinquishes his mouth again, Benny keeps his forehead pressed to Dean’s and mumbles, “Can I, baby? You ready?” as he lines himself up and pushes forward.

The head pops through and all he can think is _heat_. Dean is furnace-hot and it feels magnificent on his cool skin, silky walls clutching at him trying to force him out. “Easy, sugar. Let me in. I know, I know,” he soothes as Dean’s face eases from a shocked frown to mild discomfort. “You tell me when.”

He waits a few minutes, keeping a watchful eye on Dean’s face, until he feels him experimentally squeeze around Benny’s cock and Benny chokes on the breath he’s taking in.

“Think I’m good.” Another squeeze. “Yeah, it’s good.”

They still take it slow, Benny rocking forward and backward over and over. When he’s pressed flush against Dean’s hips, he looks down at where they’re connected. He pulls back a little and sinks forward again, marveling over how Dean can take him all. Reaching out, he presses his thumb against Dean’s rim, feeling himself inside and relishing Dean’s choked moan.

Dean’s getting slick with sweat between them, the heat of his body grasping and pulling Benny closer and closer. Benny curls a hand around the top of Dean’s forehead as he kisses him, suckling on those pillowy soft lips and lowering his body down until they were pressed together head to hips. He can feel Dean’s cock rubbing against his belly, fever hot and leaking precome with every thrust.

He reaches down with his free hand and hitches Dean’s leg around his hip, driving into him with a hard grind. The angle must have changed just right because Dean bucks up, eyes wide and lets out a shocked “_oh_”. Benny aims for that spot over and over again until Dean’s squirming and panting heavy into Benny’s mouth. “Almost there, almost there. Fuck, _fuck_ _Benny_.” He feels Dean’s thighs tense against his hips and he slides a hand between them, barely getting his fingers wrapped around Dean before he’s coming sticky and wet between them.

He follows Dean a few thrusts later and collapses on top of him, sated and breathless. Benny rolls off and pulls a still shaky Dean with him before settling down against the pillows. He’d get them cleaned up in a moment, but for now, he was too comfortable and enjoying the feel of Dean wrapped so close.

“So that was pretty much awesome,” Dean mumbles into Benny’s neck.

“I think you’re right, _mon cœur_.”

***

Hours later, Benny wakes, thanks to some particularly loud squawking seagulls outside their window. He doesn’t remember falling asleep and is already grimacing at the pull of dried come on his belly. He just hopes he and Dean aren’t stuck together.

He manages to pry himself away from Dean’s sleep-warm body and find a washcloth in the bathroom. As he waits for the water to run hot, he studies his face in the mirror. A vampire may be immortal but that doesn’t stop him from feeling old. He’s been doing this for too long.

Alone for too long. In Purgatory for too long. Even when he was with his nest, he never felt right. It wasn’t a family.

Dean though. He was family. Two lonely souls, one vibrantly alive and one damned, finding solace in each other.

He runs a hand over his face and lets the cloth soak under the water for a moment. Ringing it out, he starts scrubbing at his belly and doesn’t hear Dean stumble in. He watches two freckled arms come around him in a hug, fingers stroking his damp hair.

“Didn’t know where you went.”

“I’m right here, sugar. Not goin’ anywhere.”

***

They spend the next day walking the beach until Dean starts complaining about the sun. And the sand and the seashells he keeps stepping on and the algae that wraps around his ankles until Benny has half a mind to toss him in the ocean.

“For someone who just got laid, you are one hell of a grump.”

_That_ just makes him grumpier and Benny figures the only way to shut him up is to kiss him. So he does and what do you know, Dean shuts right up and Benny gets to enjoy the beach with his sweetheart. And all it takes is a few kisses.

***

By the time they’re back on the boat, Dean’s too quiet.

“What’s wrong, _cher_?”

“We probably have to head back to the river, right?”

Benny shrugs, curious as to where this is going. “Eventually, sure. Why d’ya ask?”

Dean mumbles something too fast for Benny to hear. “Didn’t catch that, sugar.”

“I _said_ I don’t want to leave.”

Benny feels his heart stop. “L- leave? You mean for good?” No. Please, no.

Dean hangs his head low so Benny can’t see his eyes. “I’ve been gone for weeks and I should find Sam again. There’s never a shortage of things to be hunted either.”

He can’t say anything to that. Dean has been with him for over a month now and he is a hunter. He can’t just stop being who he was just because Benny wants to keep him longer. Benny swallows hard and nods. “I get it, brother. You gotta do what you gotta.”

Dean gives him a pained look at that and Benny misses him already.

The trip back up the river is not nearly as pleasant as the way down, both men quiet, lost in their own thoughts.

***

They reach the marina where Dean first found Benny and by the time Benny ties the boat off, Dean’s stepping out of the cabin with his bag in hand. They both have shades on, hiding. Benny wishes he could see those bright green eyes once more before Dean leaves him for good. He holds a hand out.

Dean stares at his outstretched hand for a beat too long and Benny starts to drop it, feeling his heart slowly shredding to pieces, but Dean grabs it suddenly and holds on tight. He’s pulled into a hug so forcefully that all his breath _whooshes_ out.

“You come back and see me anytime, brother. You hear?” He pats Dean’s back a couple of times before stepping back.

Dean nods and leans down to pick up his bag where he dropped it, though Benny thinks he sees Dean’s hand brush his eye before straightening up again.

Benny tries to keep his eyes on Dean’s retreating figure as he walks up the dock and through the far end gate, but his sight is blurred with tears before Dean makes it past the next boat.

***

He stays another month in the marina, not really interested in traveling. Up river reminds him of Dean. Down river, too. The Gulf is out of the question entirely. So he stays docked, trying to remember how he lived his life before he met a certain green-eyed boy.

***

Halfway into month two without Dean, he hears a knock on his cabin door. He wipes his hands on the dishtowel he’s holding before opening the door to find a smiling Dean on the other side.

“Benny. I came home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV. Takes place while Dean and Benny are apart.

Things are back to normal. Dean sits behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat, the sounds of Dean’s cassette collection drowning out the rattle of Lego blocks in the vent, heading towards a lead. This is normal. This is what Dean should want.

It just isn’t.

He left Benny five days, sixteen hours, and nine, no, ten minutes ago. It took him a day and a half to reach Sam again and he wasn’t entirely surprised that Sam kept busy with hunting. By the time they met up in Montana at Rufus’ cabin, Sam had leads on two hunts and they jumped in the Impala and started driving.

Sam doesn’t ask any questions about where Dean had been, and Dean’s grateful for it. He isn’t sure how he could ever explain what happened the last couple of months. He isn’t sure he even wanted to try. Some things should be kept private and all.

***

They take care of a salt and burn in Kentucky and a poltergeist in Wisconsin, before getting a call from Garth about a string of killings in Colorado that has Dean shifting in his seat. It sounds like vampires from what Garth tells them.

Dean will do his job. Whether it was a rogue or a nest, he and Sam will have heads rolling. There just isn’t anything that will stop him from thinking of Benny the entire time.

***

“...on the front page, so I think it’s worth checking out. Dean? Dean!”

Dean startles, his wrist jerking the wheel into the bumpy shoulder lane. As he straightens the car out back out, he glances over to Sam who looks equally startled.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Dean, seriously? I was talking for at least ten minutes about this lead. In Washington? Dead bodies?”

“Washington? The state?”

“Yes, the state!” Now Sam looks annoyed. “What is with you, man? You _like_ hunting, remember?”

“No, yeah I know. It’s just... Washington.”

Sam blinks owlishly at him. “You have something against Washington?”

“No.”

Sam nods a little, waiting for him to continue, but Dean seems to be finished.

“Dean!”

“It’s just really far, okay?”

Even though Sam pokes and prods for another few minutes, he can’t get Dean to elaborate. Too far from... what? They don’t have anything to _be_ too far from. And then Sam gets it.

Too far from Benny.

He’s not blind. He knows exactly where Dean had gone after that stupid fight they had and he knows that all those weeks he was alone didn’t mean Dean was alone. He was actually more surprised when Dean called him to say he was coming back, his voice sounding easy and friendly over the phone.

Sam couldn’t even begrudge Dean whatever it was he found with Benny, and no, he really, really did not want to know what it was. He had enough clues after seeing Dean wander around after a shower with yellowing finger-shaped bruises circling his hipbones.

He watches Dean for a while, as they head west, taking in the tan and the new freckles dotting his face and how Dean seems to be more relaxed than Sam had seen him in a while. Less stressed.

He won’t feel bad for taking them to Washington because yes, there really were people dying but he can’t miss Dean’s eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every so often, looking back east.

***

Dean can’t sleep at night. The beds re always too big and he misses the gentle rock of the boat beneath him and Benny’s arm around his waist, pulling them together. He misses waking up tangled with Benny, hearing a sleepy, “Mornin’, sugar” and the feel of Benny’s whiskers rubbing his cheek.

Call him a sap. He misses it, okay? And now they’re as far away from Benny as they could possibly be, eating sandwiches on a picnic table thirty miles outside of Seattle. The sandwich tastes dry and bland anyway. He misses Benny’s cooking.

He ends up giving Sam the other half of his sandwich and shrugs at the questioning look. “Just not that hungry.”

He graciously ignores Sam’s raised eyebrows and leans back against the table, eyes closed and face towards the sun. Maybe it’s just him, but the sun seems weaker up here. Not as bright or warm as it is in other parts of the country.

***

They slowly make their way back east, stopping every couple of states to do a job. Montana is probably eight hours north of them when Sam tells Dean to head back to the cabin.

“Break time?”

“Something like that.”

***

Dean pulls up beside the cabin the next morning and Sam opens the car door, letting his right leg hang outside.

“Dean, I’ll be here okay?”

“What? And where am I going to be?”

“With Benny, Dean,” Sam says patiently. As if that explains everything.

“Benny is two thousand miles from here. What are you talking about?”

“Dean.”

“...Sam.”

Sam sighs heavily and turns to face Dean. “You want to be back there. I’m sure he wants you back, too. I’ll be fine and I’ll call you. Okay? Pop the trunk.”

Dean gets out and pops the trunk, accepts a back pat from Sam, and gets back in the Impala. And sits there staring at the cabin as if it could tell him what the hell was going on.

He nearly bangs his head on the roof when Sam taps on the window. He cranks the window down as his gigantic brother looms over the car, blocking out all the sunlight.

“Dean, what are you still doing here?”

“Okay, maybe I’m just not getting the joke but you want me to leave you here in Montana while I drive two thousand miles east and find Benny? And what...? Stay with him?”

Sam bends in half, resting his forehead on his folded arms across the window and sighs exasperatedly. Dean leans away to avoid getting a mouthful of his hair.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is muffled into his arms.

Dean taps his fingers against the wheel before grunting an acknowledgment.

“I’m not kicking you out. I’m not saying I don’t need you. What I am saying is that you miss Benny and I’m sure he misses you, so go find him and I’ll call you if I need backup or something.” He lifts his head until he and Dean are eye to eye. “Just don’t argue, okay? I probably won’t even hunt for a little while. I could use a break too, you know.”

Dean slowly nods, still trying to piece it all together. “So, you want me to go hang out with a vampire and leave you here?”

Sam’s cheeks turn pink, bewildering Dean, as he straightens and takes a step backward. “Come on, Dean. I know ‘hanging out’ wasn’t all you did.” And with that he takes off toward the cabin at a fair clip and vaults over the doorway, tossing a wave over his shoulder.

Dean blinks after Sam, imagining a cartoon-style dust storm following him.

“Dean!”

“Alright, alright! I’m going!”

***

While he isn’t exactly breaking land speed records, he does break nearly every posted speed limit from Montana to Mississippi as he drives east, Zepplin blaring and windows rolled down, sun warming his swinging hand as he drums out the beat against the hot black metal door.

***

Three days after leaving Sam, he finds himself knocking on a weathered door, bouncing a little on his toes as he hears Benny moving around inside.

The surprise on his face makes the entire trip worth it and as Dean says his name, the breathless laugh and soft, wet kiss makes Dean forget the last sixty-eight days, fourteen hours, and two, no, three minutes that he missed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this a series instead of a multi-chapter work. The timestamps will be uploaded as separate works within the series.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my baby and the one that I love the most so I hope you love it too.


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